


Wait

by FreckledSkittles



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: "always the bridesmaid but never the bride" sort of thing, Best Man, F/M, Gen, Romance, Weddings, because connie can't propose, jean trying to help, multiple weddings, patience - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-15 22:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5802301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledSkittles/pseuds/FreckledSkittles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a popular topic of conversation. "When are you going to get married?" He hears it from his friends, his family, his cat if she could speak. Sasha never says a word, but Connie knows there's a lot of pressure on his shoulders for when he's going to get down on one knee and propose to her. If only he could use the words he's heard so many other times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait

**Author's Note:**

> I actually got inspired by another fic I'm writing to write this, because I really like Springles and I like to think that they would be the last ones to marry and all their friends would get mad because "you two are the straight ones".
> 
> That and I love twists.
> 
> There is a scene with some drunkenness, so please be wary if you are sensitive to that type of material.
> 
> Also, because of marriage equality's legalization in 2015, for the sake of the story, let's just say it's set sometime after that and they can get married. Because everyone is basically super gay.

The first couple to do it were Eren and Armin.

It was when their friends, all twelve of them, had decided to go to a ski resort for vacation. Some of them claimed it was because a year and a half out of college and they still missed the spontaneous trips for holiday breaks (like the one time Reiner, Connie and Eren ran away to Miami during spring break and still only remember half of the trip), but Krista's birthday was coming up and she knew where to go thanks to her family's connections. It worked out well anyway: everyone could catch a break, she and her girlfriend Ymir could stay an extra day, and everyone would be able to enjoy themselves. And it was fun, for the most part: learning how to ski, all-out snowball wars with a base and a kill count, the discovery of Annie's hot chocolate skills, combined with Bertolt's s'mores. And on the very last day, when everyone was gathered in warm clothes and cooling down for the night, Eren stood up and offered to get drinks for everyone, and when he came back, he spilled his on the rug. Eren got down on one knee to clean it, but he reached for his pocket instead. It was to a conglomeration of "holy shit"s and "are you kidding me"s that he asked the question.

"Will you marry me?"

After that, it was a barrage of planning and energy that surrounded the two wherever they went. Eren couldn't stop chatting about the flowers they were going to use, the cake they wanted, the location that they couldn't decide on because there were _so many_ to choose from. Armin didn't talk about it as much, but it was clear in his eyes that he was just as excited about this as his fiancé was.

They were married within the year.

What Connie remembered distinctly about that day was how nervous Eren had been, unable to sit still as they waited for the ceremony to get started. They had decided that with both of their lack of parents, with the Arlert's putting Armin up for adoption after birth and Eren being raised by his mother for most of his life, it was best for Carla Jaeger to walk her son down the aisle, to give him off to be married. Connie and Reiner had been called in for help before the ceremony started, the former being the best man and the latter to help him fit his suit, but it was difficult to get him to stay still for one minute.

"What if he leaves me?" He asked as he paced the room, his hands twitching and jumping from writhing in front of him to running through his hair to dragging down his face. "What if I fuck up my vows? What if he realizes afterwards that this was a terrible mistake? What if  _I_ realize that  _I_ made a terrible mistake?"

"How does that work out?" Reiner asked, finally stilling Eren so he could adjust his collar and put his tie on.

"Because I'm impulsive. I mean, we've only been dating for three years, and that's not enough time."

"Yeah, but you guys were best friends since our sandbox days," Connie added from the couch he was sprawled on. His suit was probably crinkled, and Mikasa, after planning everything like it was her job (even though it technically was, making her automatic wedding planner), was going to have his head on a silver platter if he messed up anything. "Don't sweat it, man. Everything's gonna be fine."

Eren, now turned to face the mirror, looked at Connie's reflection with furrowed eyebrows. "Connie, you've been dating Sasha since high school, and that's not counting your mud date-slash-wedding in second grade. I think you're the last person I should take advice from."

Connie sat up at that, scrambling as he did, but more focused on the offense bubbling in his chest that his advice wouldn't be taken as seriously as it should. Were his wingman skills not as serious as they should have been? Did Eren not remember who got him and Armin together, or Jean and Marco? (He would say Reiner and Bert were also because of him, but Ymir and Annie once kicked him out of his apartment for claiming that, so he stopped adding it to his resume.)

"I created the School of Wingmen, dude!" Connie declared. "You should  _always_ take advice from me!"

" _Relationship_ advice," Reiner corrected as he finally finished the adjustments. "You suggested Miami."

"That's not a bad idea right now," Eren mumbled quietly.

He would have ran away again, and he was halfway out when Mikasa was at the door, wondering why Reiner and Connie were holding onto his feet while he tried to climb out the window.

The wedding, in the end, went just as they had expected. The ceremony was beautiful, Eren had cried more than Armin (probably because the blond had more self-control and better managed his impulses), and both best men—Marco and Connie—had successfully high-fived over the grooms' heads when they were finally declared "married". And the reception that followed afterward was just as thrilling and electrifying as they had expected.

For a while, the wedding atmosphere and the excitement that followed it dwindled down.

x-x-x

The second pair were Reiner and Bertolt.

This time, it was in March, and the twelve had decided to go out for a picnic at lunch and a walk in the fresh start of spring. Although they were divided by couples, they had gone as friends, and spent the day as such. They kicked around a soccer ball (at least half of them were athletes when they were in school, and it clashed with their competitive natures), ranted about coworkers or a terrible boss (Marco always had something interesting and unbelievable to add to the growing chronicles about the editor-in-chief, a short man with a smaller temper who was difficult to please, of the magazine headquarters he worked at), and shared the various snacks and finger foods that they had brought along with them. Sasha had somehow managed to accomplish all three, even if the only sharing she did was with the boyfriend sprawled in her lap while she pet his newly-shaved head.

"I mean, Mike's a great guy and all, and he's super cute—not _my_ type, but I had to give him credit," she told the group, "so I tell Nanaba 'sure, he's alright'. And I  _kid you not_ , she looks right at me and goes 'he's dating the boss'."

"Wait, hold on," Jean, who worked with her at the veterinarian's office, raised his hand to stop her, "'the boss' as in Zoe, or 'the boss' as in Smith?"

Sasha chewed past a large bite of her sandwich as she continued. "Well, Mike and Hanji are friends, so I thought that's what she meant. But then she was like 'no, they're just friends, I'm talking about _Smith_.'"

"Didn't you say that Mike is like, five-eight or something?" Reiner asked.

"The guy is giant, yeah," Jean replied with a slight furrow of his brows. "You wouldn't think he's gay."

"Every time I've been in there and saw him, I always thought he was into Nanaba," Marco confessed.

"Yeah, they have great chemistry," Krista agreed. "I saw them out once walking a dog when I took my nephew out to the park on the other side of town. I thought  _they_ would be dating."

There was more to be said on the subject, but at that time, Annie had gathered the attention onto Bertolt when she reached across the picnic blanket to grab at a slip of paper he was reading. When he turned away from her, and quite forcefully too, she had to skid back to stop herself from falling.

"What are you reading?" She asked.

"Nothing," he stated, curling up to hide what was in his hands. His eyes snapped up briefly when he noticed that everyone was staring at him, and, not being someone who soaked up the spotlight, bit his lip with an embarrassed flush to his face. "It's private."

"You brought porn with you to a picnic?" Ymir accused with a curl of her lips.

"Wh-what? No, that's gross—"

"Is it smut?" Sasha wondered, reaching for it as well but being denied with another rough turn.

"It's not smut, stop it!"

"You can read it out loud, if you want," Reiner said. Lying on his stomach, he was smiling up at Bertolt with more admiration than he usually revealed, which was already a lot and often on its own. "You don't have to hide it."

The small nudge of encouragement from his boyfriend seemed to be enough, for once he read the poem, he couldn't stop. It was cheesy, and it was ridiculous, and although it contained some personal material that brought a blush to Bertolt's face, when he finally completed the last few lines, he was crying and faced with a kneeling Reiner, who was equally as emotional, and celebration ensued at the confirmation that they would be getting married.

A few nights later, when Connie and Sasha, after two long days at work, were huddled together on the floor in front of the coffee table to their apartment and sharing a page in one of those zen coloring books, Connie remembered what Eren and Reiner had talked to him about during the former's wedding day. He and Sasha had been dating for years without stop, ever since they were sixteen, and they were already nearing the eight-year mark in November. And he couldn't help but wonder when he would propose the question to her.

"I wonder what it'll feel like when I get married," Sasha pondered as she switched out a blue for a red-orange crayon. Her voice was quieter, as if it was just a mere afterthought and she was thinking aloud again. It was a habit she was trying to break, but Connie admired it too much for her to be motivated to change it. Nevertheless, he stopped coloring to stare at her in confusion.

"What do you mean?" He asked. "Like, to me? Or…just in general?"

She gazed up at him and must have realized she had voiced her thoughts, for she smiled and pecked his cheek, if a bit embarrassed. "Of course it'll be you. Who else is gonna make me blueberry waffles from scratch?"

The reassurance had brought on a makeout session on the floor until they fell asleep there, curled into one another and completely content with the path they were going up. Connie let the thoughts of marriage sit in the back of his mind, because he didn't know what to do with them, and he didn't know how to tell Sasha that he wanted to marry her and give her the best life she could ever have.

x-x-x

The next wedding was not really a wedding at all. It was more of a scare than anything else.

After Bertolt and Reiner were married, sixteen months after being engaged (when Bertolt and Mikasa worked together, they got things done quicker), and were whisked off to their honeymoon in London, Eren had group texted whoever was still in the States and demanded that they meet at his house two days after the wedding. He wouldn't say anything else besides it was an emergency, and his continuous texts of "CODE BLACK" in all caps were starting to become more annoying than worrisome.

When they gathered in his and Armin's apartment, half of them still dressed in their pajamas, Eren addressed them as if he were in a press conference. "If you notice," he started, "there are two people missing from our usual lineup. And they are not the newlyweds."

As it turned out, both Annie and Mikasa were missing, as told by the fact that neither of their phones were picking up their calls and Mikasa had failed so leave a morning text for her brother on both days. He hadn't seen her since the wedding, and he knew she checked up on him regularly. That was enough to scare the remaining six into action.

"Do we tell Bert and Reiner?" Krista asked, and was nearly shoved down with the force Eren faced her with as he lunged forward.

" _Never_ ," he whispered with an underlying tone of fear. "They need to focus on the sex."

"How are we supposed to find them?" Marco wondered.

"I don't  _know_ , think of something!"

Jean remained silent, Connie noticed instantly, and he hadn't commented on anything, even to criticize Eren. And that was just as suspicious as the disappearance of their two friends. When Jean noticed his best friend staring at him, he scowled and turned away. He knew something. Connie turned to Sasha to see she had noticed as well, and the duo smirked at one another.

"Jean knows something," Sasha declared with a raise of her hand.

"What the hell, Sash?!" Jean glared.

"Tell it to the judge!" Connie shouted. "Where are you keeping the bodies?!"

"How much did you pay Marco to help you?!" Sasha accused, resulting in confused sputtering from Marco.

"Jean, did you kill someone?!" Krista gawked.

" _No_ , I didn't kill anyone!" He snapped.

"I will kick your _ass,_ " Eren threatened, tackling Jean off of the armrest and to the ground.

"Get off  _me_ , I didn't do a thing!"

"Quit yelling," Ymir snarled from her place at the door, her phone against her ear, "they  _eloped_. They didn't wanna make a big deal out of it, so they only told Bert and Reiner. They left yesterday."

After getting Eren off of Jean, and giving a pack of ice for his stinging jaw, Ymir and Jean told the stories that had been told. Mikasa, with encouragement from Bertolt and with Annie being his best woman, proposed to girlfriend that the two of them run away and get married as soon as possible, while everyone was focused on the wedding that had just taken place. Neither woman was a showy person, and had talked about getting married in the Japanese countryside, so they gathered a few clothes and bought their tickets. Only Bertolt, Reiner and Jean knew about it: the first two because they were equally close to both women, and the latter because he had offered to buy the tickets for them. Plus, if it weren't for him, they wouldn't have started dating in the first place.

"So they're not dead?" Sasha asked.

"No," Jean glowered.

"And Marco's not an accomplice."

"No, Sasha," Marco sighed.

"If you think about it, they caused more trouble than they were trying to avoid," Armin observed.

"Yeah, but can you blame them?" Krista proposed.

"Why didn't they tell me?" Eren frowned, pouting in the armchair. His husband gently pet his head for comfort.

"I think I should have known," Connie stated, "because I was the best man—"

"Shut up, monkey," Ymir rolled her eyes. "You're probably gonna end up at the best man for every wedding you touch."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Ymir, don't," Krista frowned, but her girlfriend cackled.

"Oh come on, Kris!" She protested. "He's been dating Sasha for _years_ now! What's that one saying? 'Always the best man, never the groom'?"

The reminder left a bitter taste in Connie's mouth for the rest of the day.

x-x-x

When Annie and Mikasa returned, they decided to at least throw a reception, as a compensation for not having a "proper ceremony". It was a few months after their actual anniversary, and even if Mikasa had to be forced to sit down and Annie had to be kept from  _leaving_ , it turned into a great night. Connie had been asked to say something, since his way with words, although choppy and more goofy, were actually heartfelt and would give proper credit to the newlyweds, even if Ymir gave him a taunting glower that he pretended not to notice.

"Wanna make a bet?"

Connie was in the bathroom, currently using a urinal, and turned his head to see Jean leaning against the wall, clearly influenced by alcohol (not that it was a complaint, since Connie had had his fair share of drinks). Jean stumbled over to him, draping an arm over his shoulder, and nearly bringing both of them on the floor as he did.

"You and I," he slurred, "have been together for a long…long time. And our boyfriend-girlfriend wanna marry us, right?"

Connie nodded, and discreetly zippered up his pants. He stayed as still as he could so he didn't risk any major movements that involved them falling on linoleum.

"I'm not ready—" Jean gagged and bent forward, and Connie grabbed him in case he was gonna hurl. But he shook him off and proceeded. "I'm not ready. It's not time. I gotta find the time."

_You and me too, bud._

"And y'know what? I wanna see who can get ready first. And whoever loses has to be the best man."

Connie figured that either way, they would end up being each other's best man when they decided to get married, but he'll go for it anyway. After all, if he said anything that even looked like he was opposing him, he would have to deal with a ten-year-old instead of a twenty-five-year-old.

"Sounds good, Jay," he grinned and patted his back. Jean looked as if he had proposed to him, and let out a giggle that strung into a high pitch and ended with a hiccup.

"You're so great, man! Ohh, God," Jean fell back against him with a satisfied sigh, "I love you, bro."

And there was the drool on his shoulder.

"Alright, come on," Connie gently jostled him away, "let's go find Marco and get you in a chair before you fall asleep on me." He wasn't nearly as wasted as Jean was, so at least he had enough sobriety to still walk in a straight line.

"Marco is dead," Jean groaned, and stumbled against the bathroom stall. "I think Ymir got him. Maybe. It was too tall, it might've been Berturtle or—"

And with that, he vomited into the toilet mid-sentence, lurching just in time to make it in the bowl. Connie, as he patted his back and talked him through it, kept the moment as a mental note on why he deserved to be Jean's best man, just in case he forgot about the bet.

x-x-x

The next wedding was, as it had been expected, Ymir and Krista's.

What made it worst was that everyone had expected Ymir to be the one who would propose. She had always gushed about her love for her girlfriend, ever since they were little kids and too young for a relationship to be considered serious, so it wouldn't be a surprise. But when Krista, like a goddess in a beautiful white gown and her hair down, who didn't even have to kneel, pulled out the little black box and asked Ymir, it seemed only fitting that it happened that way. And everyone was overjoyed.

"Ymir's wanted to marry her for years," Reiner remarked casually one day as the twelve friends helped Ymir and Krista shuffle through venues they could use. For the time being, Ymir had gone with Jean to pick up the pizzas they had ordered. "She said she knew ever since they started dating."

"How come she didn't propose sooner?" Connie wondered. The two had been dating for just as long as he and Sasha had, ever since Krista won homecoming queen during their junior year of high school and Ymir carried her to receive her flowers and crown, both sweaty and still dressed in their marching band uniforms.

"Because she was afraid," said Annie. Her finger toyed absentmindedly with the ring on her finger. "She knew she loved Krista, but she was always afraid that she would be denied."

"Krista looks at her like she hung the moon," Bertolt added with a small scoff. "Was she really that oblivious?"

When dinner arrived, Jean and Ymir carrying a few boxes each, Connie noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Marco presenting a page to Jean with a bright grin on his face, his eyes twinkling with desire and his mouth going off a mile a minute. Jean set the pizzas down before he peered at it over his glasses, and although he returned the smile, Connie knew—and saw—that he didn't share the enthusiasm. He was still afraid—but of what? Not being able to find the words, like Connie? Or like Ymir, who thought everything would go wrong?

Connie was thankful Sasha hadn't done the same with him, because after being named Krista's maid of honor, she was preoccupied with helping her make certain decisions, like a dress or the flowers that matched hers.

Despite the stress it brought them and the time they had ran out of, Mikasa managed to get the wedding to the set date, about twenty months after the proposal. She was practically running off of Red Bull, Connie noticed, and he was amused at how she nearly fell into Annie's arms after the ceremony in relief. It was agreed, by their group of twelve, that Ymir and Krista had had the best ceremony (so far).

The pictures were one of Connie's favorite moments of a wedding. He enjoyed the organization of the positions, the attempts to photobomb in the back, the coordination of dresses and tuxes. Ymir and Krista had agreed that pictures were best taken afterwards, and with the happiness they radiated and the contagious glee everyone was running on, it was perfect for them.

"Can we have one with all twelve of us, sir?" Krista asked politely, and the photographer agreed. She waved the ten over to join them, but Connie was held back by an arm on his shoulder.

"It's either you or me now," Jean murmured as they strayed behind the others. Connie's stomach churned, not only because they had both remembered, but because he was going to be expected more than ever to propose Sasha. And as much as he wanted to, he wasn't sure if he was ready. He didn't know how to express his love for her. And he was already nearing their ten-year dating anniversary.

"I don't know if I can, Jean," he admitted. To find the words, to admit he loved her with every part of him, to ask for her hand—it was what he wanted, but what he couldn't do.

Jean looked at him and sighed, and Connie could see the fear that burned in his eyes and was tearing him apart from the inside. It was the exact same look he had when he looked in the mirror each day. "Me too, Con."

They were in the same boat.

x-x-x

Connie and Sasha passed the ten-year mark of their dating with a bottle of expensive champagne and sushi. He knew it wasn't what she wanted, and he could see it in her eyes that with every wedding their friends had, she was waiting for him to ask her.

The next month, Jean finally proposed.

The twelve had gone to New York City for New Year's and faced the blistering cold to stand in Times Square and watch the ball drop. Their bellies had been warmed by pretzels they had found in a local bakery, even as their noses and cheeks turned red and they huddled together for warmth. The bodies who were the warmest were put in the middle, though even as Marco was centered, Jean made sure to keep their arms locked together. Connie couldn't see the fear in him anymore. He definitely appeared more confident, more sure, and he was definitely more quiet. It might have been because of the cold, but Connie knew better. He knew what Jean was going to do.

If he was already engaged or married to Sasha, he would have felt genuinely happy.

It really was a sight to behold: the ball dropping, the people counting, the lights above broadcasting plays and advertisements and a countdown. Connie wanted to say he was excited, but he couldn't find it in himself.

When the ball finally dropped and midnight struck, Connie kissed Sasha with everything he had in him. She was confused, he could feel it in the hold she returned, but he wanted her to know just how much he meant to her, even if he couldn't voice it. Sasha was the girl who helped carry him through the playground when he broke his arm, the girl who helped fend off the bullies in middle school, the girl who stole his heart with a box of lo mein and a pair of chopsticks, who has dated him for years and has waited just as long for him to finally ask for her hand. It was unfair to her.

Jean must have gone straight from the kiss to down on his knee, because the rest of the group, along with a few bystanders, had turned to see the spectacle taking place. Connie wished he could turn away, but he had to support his friends.

"We've been waiting a long time," Jean began, his voice slightly broken by the tears he was most likely holding back. Marco had already started to cry, holding his face between his hands as he listened. "Like, a super long time. And almost everyone else has gotten married, and…I can't wait any longer, Mar. I gotta marry you. I want to make you the happiest man in the world."

"You already do that," Marco whispered, hiccuping right after.

"Then will you marry me? So I can keep on doing that?"

"Of course. Jean, of course!"

As the two hugged and cheers from around them surfaced—and there may or may not have been a shot on the jumbotron above—Connie tightly wound his gloved hand with Sasha's mitten. She squeezed back, as if to assure him of the pain he was dealing with was not a burden he was sharing. She was suffering all the same.

x-x-x

"Hey Jean?"

Nine months after the engagement, Connie sat in a dressing room as the best man for his friend's wedding. There had been a similar circumstance a few years ago with Eren, and he found himself in the same predicament. Only this time, he was far from denying the predicament he was in.

Jean had been busy trying to kick his family out as politely as he could, ducking out of the way of his mother's attempt to straighten his hair up, and turned to Connie once they were gone. One look and he could see the groom understood what he was going through, as if he was transparent and all his thoughts and worries could be viewed.

"Come here, you bald monkey," he sighed, and when the shorter didn't move, Jean strode over to him instead. He didn't let Connie protest or object, even if he could find the words; he wrapped the shorter in his arms tightly, trying to convey support to the same emotions he had gone through before. Connie shut his eyes and forced himself to stay calm and not cry on the nice (and rather expensive) suit. His own taut grip was a representation of that control, that attempt to hold it in for now.

"I don't think I'm ever gonna do it," he whispered. "Jean, I feel like I'm gonna lose her."

"I know, Con, I know. How do you think I felt?"

"You're about to get married, asshole."

"A year ago, I couldn't even think about _saying_ 'will you marry me'."

Connie pushed away and shot Jean a weak glare. "But you found a pair, Jay. I'm not a word guy. I can't just make a pretty poem and hope it turns out alright."

"Maybe that's why you're so anxious. You're thinking too much about it, you haven't done a lot to help yourself. I mean, no offense, I love you, Con, but it's not anything that you can just plan. When it feels right, you'll know it's time. Trust me."

As much as he wanted to argue, Connie accepted the fact and put on a smile. He was going to wait for their time to come, no matter when it was. If it felt right, and when it did, he would go for it.

With a slight nod, Jean returned the smile and patted him on the shoulder. "So, you ready?"

"Are  _you_ ready? I got twenty bucks against Annie and Ymir saying you'll cry first."

"You know I can still ask Eren or Reiner if they wanna be the best man, right?"

Jean and Marco had a wonderful ceremony, especially including the large families both sides sported. And in the end, it was their collective group of friends that made it the most embarrassing, but things felt _right_. Connie was more like himself, joking and grinning with the others. Sasha seemed brighter, more joyous, than he had seen her in a long time. If there were any curious or wary glances sent their way, he didn't notice.

The source of Sasha's change in moods was explained at the reception. 

Connie could barely explain what had gone down, or when it exactly started, but all he knew was that he hadn't seen his girlfriend in a while. His dancing and drinking made everything just a blur of memory until her voice came over the speakers at the end of the latest song.

"Can I have everyone's attention please?"

The noise level gradually decreased and settled on the brunette standing on the stage. She grinned at the crowd, the kind that made her eyes spark and his stomach flip. 

"If you don't know my name, I'm Sasha, one of the grooms' childhood friends. I'm actually one of the reasons why they're together, even if they forget to cite their sources most of the time." Her comment earned her laughter from her audience, and it did nothing but spur her on. "But it also wouldn't be possible if it weren't for the wingman skills of my best friend and boyfriend, Connie Springer."

The applause was just as much of a shock, and he couldn't help but flush at the praise and attention he was given. Even through his alcohol-muddled state, he waved at the crowd, but paused when Sasha gestured for him to come up to the stage. _She wants me up there with her?_

Connie pushed himself to the stage, hopping on it with little effort and bowed to the crowd. Sasha threw an arm over his shoulder and laughed in his ear. The sound was just as joyous as she revealed. And yet he still didn't notice it, or pay attention to the expecting and ecstatic stares from their friend group.

"This guy has been the cutest, funniest shortest dude I have ever met. I mean, have you _seen_  the grooms? Hold on, lemme get down to your level."

Okay, so maybe this was just another one of her drunk antics—which was alright by him. Sasha was the happiest drunk anyone could ever recall. But when he glanced over at Marco and Jean, they weren't angry or even shocked to see them up there. In fact, they looked more hopeful than anything, hands grasped together like they were waiting in anticipation for something to happen.

That was when he turned to see Sasha on one knee, her expression suddenly serious. That was when he saw that she had a tiny black box in her hands. That was when he realized what all of this was. Maybe she was a bit tipsy, but the warm cinnamon swirl of her eyes that he loved so much were shining through her wary smile. He could see that she was afraid, unaware of the repercussions her actions would have on him, because there was still a small dip to her rosy lips. And he hated that he was the cause.

"Connie," she began, the mic now tilted down in the stand so that it could pick up her voice, "I know you're afraid to ask me yourself. Because when you get scared, you either tell Jean or you act really weird about normal things. And last November, when you stuffed a whole wad of wasabi into your mouth instead of sushi and didn't even flinch, I knew something was wrong, because you always cry when you eat it. And thankfully, you  _did_ tell Jean, and he sorta let me in on your deal, and… I don't want to put you through that. You mean the world to me, Connie. And what kind of girlfriend would I be if I made you go through that?" She gazed down at the box in her hand and laughed quietly. "It took me a while to make one that was right for you. And then I had to find the right time to do it, and after seeing you today, I know that we _have_ to get married. And no one ever said that a girl can propose to her boyfriend, so…"

She opened the box to reveal a thread of blue and pink weaved together intricately to form a bracelet, just like the ones she used to make as a kid. In fact, not only was it similar to the ones they had made as kids, but it was also the same color scheme and pattern as the matching pair they had worn when they had first started dating in high school.

" _Tum mujhse shaadi karogi?_ "

Connie choked back a sob at the use of Hindi, a language that he had grown up with and had fed to her in bits and pieces for years. The pronunciation of the words on her tongue spurred his stomach into frayed pieces, and he couldn't help himself from surging forward and kissing her. His hold on her was tight as the crowd erupted into high praise, and she lifted him up into her arms as she stood. They fumbled a bit before they were able to see one another, and she put the bracelet around his wrist. He noticed a matching on one her right one, which she entwined with his with a laugh.

There was no need for fancy words, no fancy expressions that were elaborately planned. Connie had always thought that because it was Sasha, he had to come up with something special, something valuable, that would blow her away. And yet he had forgotten that he had never done things that way, because it wasn't who he was, and it wasn't how he did anything. He hardly ever thought about his actions beforehand, and although his friends mocked him for it, thinking too much about his proposal to Sasha had done him nothing. All she had done was make friendship bracelets, get on one knee, and ask him. Why he had never thought of that, or at least something as simple, he didn't know. But he was glad that it came from her, for no one could have delivered it as perfectly as she had.

x-x-x

Connie heard many things about what went on in the back of limousines after a wedding. Jean and Marco had admitted, after holding back throughout the ceremony, had instantly torn off their clothes and, to say the least, were able to successfully rid themselves of their horny states before the reception (only for it to continue in the bathroom later on and then well into the night). Reiner and Bertolt took a nap, both bogged down by Bertolt's rather large family ("one half is Jewish and the other half is Mexican, so telling them to be calm is like telling a southerner to stop saying 'y'all'."). Krista chugged a bottle of champagne as a dare while Ymir was, in her own words "hiding in my wife's dress skirt" (which got her nothing but a smack on the arm). Eren and Armin refused to comment on what they had done, but both of their faces were red, so Connie figured they weren't as open (or as drunk as Jean and Marco had been) to reveal their own story.

As far as he knew, this was the first time he had heard of the request from Sasha.

"Can we stop by McDonald's? I want a hash brown and a burrito."

Connie, instantly heightened by her request, yet ignoring how strange it sounded, nodded in agreement and peeked his head through the divider of the limo beside his newly-declared wife. "If we're going to Mickey D's, can you take me to Wendy's? I want a Frosty and spicy chicken nuggets."

The chauffeur looked like he wanted to protest, but Sasha cut him off. "We'll share. And maybe even tip you?"

He couldn't remember ever hearing of a proposal with something akin to friendship bracelets. He also couldn't recall a limo with newlyweds in the back going through three fast-food restaurants' drive-thrus for food  _for_ said newlyweds, and he was sure no one had had to wait as long of a time to get married as they had. Even with ketchup stains on her dress and on his suit and tie, it couldn't have gone any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> *It's a personal headcanon of mine that Connie is half-Indian on his mother's side (his dad is Danish and English), and he grew up with both Hindu and Christian influences. "Tum mujhse shaadi karogi" is Hindi for "will you marry me". (If this is wrong, because I got this from Google, please correct me and I will be happy to change it.)


End file.
